


Stupidly Superfluous & Other Events

by Blackprose



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackprose/pseuds/Blackprose
Summary: Short, unrelated stories written for Yooran week 2018.





	1. Chapter 1

Pen balanced on the top of his lips, Yoosung sits snuggled on the couch, knitted rainbow blanket slung over his shoulders. He pouts his lips, staring down his nose at the pen as it balances precariously when he really should be focused on the textbook on his lap, especially those complicated looking diagrams of blood vessels in reptiles.

In the background, he can hear the television droning to some dramatic T.V. show Saeran has taken to. It’s pleasant background noise, and it isn’t in Korean so it’s easy to tune out. Yoosung’s spaced out; the words on the page just aren’t sticking in his brain anymore, even though he’s read that last paragraph twenty times now.

It takes him longer than normal to notice that the shower’s on. Meaning that Saeran isn’t watching the show he left on in the bedroom. That shouldn’t surprise him. Two hours ago when Yoosung got up to stretch, check the fridge, and wander aimlessly, he shuffled over to the bedroom where Saeran sat half invested in the T.V., half invested in the sketchbook in his lap.

“What’s happening now to Marty Lava?” Yoosung asked, desperate to engage in a conversation that isn’t about animal organs.

“Dunno,” Saeran said, looking at the screen briefly. “Looks like he’s working on solving the murder case with…” Saeran sat up abruptly, a scowl on his face. “That bitch…” he muttered, then turned to Yoosung and proceeded to tell him Marty Lava’s life story; along with that agent who he now trusts that’s obviously double-crossing him.

But, that was two hours ago, and the episodes have likely rolled over, meaning that Marty is probably wrapped up in some completely new problem. All the while, Yoosung fumbles the pen and it falls off his face. He turns his head when he notices the bathroom door open. Saeran stands there, hair absolutely dripping and a solitary towel wrapped around his waist. His shiver is so intense that it looks like the air around him is vibrating. It’s enough of an excuse for Yoosung to set his textbook down (thank God, honestly) and walk over with that knitted blanket.

“You know you’re gonna make yourself sick,” Yoosung scolds, using one finger on Saeran’s chest to push him back into the humid warmth of the bathroom.

Saeran grunts in response and sits down on the edge of the tub, fingers steadfast on the edges of Yoosung’s blanket.

“Warm me?” he whispers softly. “I left the show on.”

“Oh, you need to get back to Marty?” Yoosung teases, kneeling down so he can reach for the hairdryer.

“Marty understands me,” Saeran responds, voice deadpan even though Yoosung knows it’s Saeran’s way of joking. It took a while to acclimate to such dry humour without taking him seriously.

“Oh, guess Marty can dry your hair.”

“His last name is Lava, Yoosung.” As in, lava is warm. Duh. At least, that’s what Saeran’s inflection implied. Yoosung plugs in the hair dryer and sits on the toilet seat.

“Come here, gimme your head.”

When Saeran tilts over, his drenched hair drips onto Yoosung’s pajamas.

“Oh my God, dry your hair off first!”

“I thought that was your job.”

“Not when you’re a wet dog.”

“Hey.” Mildly offended, Saeran squeezes the water out of the hair on the back of his neck. It trails down his chest and no doubt makes him colder than before. Yoosung tugs the towel around Saeran’s waist.

“Off.”

“Use another one,” Saeran responds just as fast.

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Cuz someone didn’t do laundry?”

“Oh.” Admitting defeat, Saeran shifts just enough to slip the towel off of his waist and into his hair, where he vigorously rubs his scalp. Droplets flick off the tips of his hair.

“Agh! See, this is why I call you a dog,” Yoosung groans. “You got the blanket all wet.”

Saeran throws the wet towel over his lap again.

“Boohoo,” he bemoans sarcastically, green eyes peeking out from behind dark red hair.

Yoosung turns on the hair dryer. It spurts to life with a squeal that makes Yoosung think it’s about to short circuit their electricity (which has happened before in the kitchen.) It eventually starts humming evenly. Yoosung runs his hands through Saeran’s hair enviously, eliciting a small pleasurable sigh from his boyfriend.

“What are you doing?” Saeran asks after a few minutes, hunched over so his head is practically in Yoosung’s lap.

“You have pretty hair.”

“You have pretty hair, too.”

“It’s crunchy and dyed.”

“Maybe not if you let it grow.”

“Without dying it? Brown is kinda gross, and… doesn’t look like me.”

“It’s you. It’ll look like you no matter what.” The next part Yoosung is sure Saeran intended to mumble under the noise from the hairdryer. “Those old photos of you look cute, though…”

“You think?”

Saeran straightens and fixes his hair; the way Yoosung was fixing it was wrong, apparently.  

“Yeah, dummy. Think about it.”

Yoosung thinks about it for two seconds; even pretends he’s considering it deeply by tapping his chin.

“Umm, no. Love you, though.”

“Hmm.”

That’s probably as close as Yoosung’s getting to affection from Saeran tonight, especially when one of them has to study and the other absolutely has to find out what escapades their favourite protagonist is getting into.


	2. Marshmallow Soft

Yooran Day 2 - ~~Heartbreak~~ // Growth 

The nights here are quiet, and it’s a peaceful blanket rather than smothering anxiety. The lamp on his bedside table spills soft yellow light across his room, falling short of the furthest wall and creating pockets of darkness, black hole equivalents; which would be scary but in this room, it’s just an entity that exists like himself, and Yoosung, and any other. **  
**

It’s a low wattage lamp. Saeyoung had read somewhere that it helped with anxiety. It made the world feel tapered at the edges, rounded out instead of sharp and menacing. It helps.

Yoosung yawns and drops his phone somewhere between the folded layers of blankets between them. It’s likely dying and he should plug it in, but Saeran sometimes doesn’t mention that because if his phone dies, his alarm won’t go off and that means Yoosung sleeps through his morning class.

It’s totally selfish. Saeran just wants to extend the mornings past their natural death and cuddle in bed until way, way, embarrassingly past noon.

Then, the lights off because Yoosung flicked it and Saeran closes his eyes, anyway, since it’s not like he can see in the pitch dark. Yoosung’s hand finds his, poking around the blankets until they’re slotted together. Saeran hoists his legs over Yoosung, never quite feeling comfortable being smothered by wayward limbs in his sleep.

He drifts in the marshmallow soft world between sleep and wakefulness, when the pillows feel unbearably soft, the blanket silken upon his skin; and thinks.

He thinks about everything and nothing. There are bananas on the counter. He should do something with that. Saeyoung’s going to take him to the suit store. Why? There’s something… MC said she wants his opinion on eyeliner. Saeyoung only uses the cheap stuff apparently. He’ll have to see what she’s going for. Pencil or liquid? There’s a lot of kinds. He’s had time to practice but that isn’t - that isn’t what he was thinking about… he was thinking about - the colour of his tie. Honeydew. It was okay. It looked good with the pattern they chose. It’s the official colour of Yoosung’s major. He picked up his scarf already. Yoosung got mad when Saeran called it a scarf. It was that… Academic clothes. You wear when you’re… fuck, graduating. Yoosung’s graduation is soon. And  Yoosung - he, he said he has a surprise for Saeran?

Oh no, he can’t get a surprise. He hates surprises. A surprise in front of everyone? How will he know how to react? What if he doesn’t smile when he’s supposed to and Yoosung cries? Is he going to put him on the spot? This is stupid, Saeran has no fucking idea what Yoosung is even going to surprise him with. He needs to fucking… fucking shut up and wear the honeydew tie.

Saeran’s consciousness shifts when he notices he can’t move his arms; when he notices the way he usually slowly rocks himself to sleep every night is thwarted by a pair of hands around his waist, and a weight against his back.

“Shhh, I’m here,” a sleepy, half-slurred voice beside him whispers.

Saeran finds himself responding in whimpers instead of words.

“Don’t be anxious, I gotchu…” Yoosung responds.

Relief soothes the warm edges of his mind, the ones overheating with anxiety, like dunking your toes in the pool on a sweltering day.

“H…how?” Saeran manages, voice almost inaccessible to his sleeping body.

“Not your usual moving, more… fast.”

“S…s…” the barely completed apology doesn’t even fully form on his tongue before Saeran legitimately falls asleep, heart warmed like steamed milk inside his chest. Fluffy. Comfortable. Reassured. Yoosung totally understands him

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Blackprose](https://blackprose.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [@LikelyRogue](https://twitter.com/LikelyRogue) on Twitter. Hit me up to chat 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please read my other works!


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